AdvExGen A Field Agent of Valentina s Espionage
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New Age CrazedChapter 5 free porn video
The subject in the state of hypnosis is a tabla rasa, a pure slate open to achieving perfect suggestibility enabling a perfection of purpose, untainted by the imperfections learned and trained by a purposeless life and schooling.
--from the thesis "The Psychopathology of Radical Thought Metamorphosis: Processes in Mind Transformation" by Deidre Haas
I know it's a cliché to awaken and be completely confused by where you are, particularly if it's somewhere you have never been before. But usually it's a strange bed in a hotel room or some friend's house you crashed at the night before, and a moment later the confusion clears like a distortion filter removed from a lens. However, when you have no clue how you got to be where you awake, well, confusion persists.
Then when the world around you fills with explosive sounds of violence, gun shots, painful screams and angry shouts, it would take a very brave man indeed to rise from a prone position and find out what the hell was going on. Most likely you would be frozen, not even wanting to test whether it's a nightmare by pinching yourself; praying you reawaken in your own comfortable bed.
No such luck. I remained on my back on cold dirt under vast redwood trees while violent chaos happened. Wanting to be as still as a corpse, I barely breathed.
The last thing I remembered before I awakened to horror had also been chaos, but opposite to the painful scene. It was pure pleasure.
Deidre Haas may have been the most delicious woman I have ever had the chance to fuck. Her long luxurious black hair set off her soft, pale skin and her dark blue, almost violet eyes. Those eyes were large and expressive, set in a fantastically beautiful face with fairly high cheekbones, a perfect nose, neither too large nor too small, a rounded chin and a mouth, average sized with slightly full, kissable lips. Her neck was lithe and long. Her body had full breasts hanging firm and perfectly shaped, capped by small but sensitive areola and proud, firm nipples. A narrow waist flared out to womanly, but not overly broad hips, tapering down to strong but supple thighs, narrow calves and, her one flaw, large feet. Her ass was an amazing nearly square bifurcated oval. And she tasted divine, her mouth, her pussy, even her skin, and they felt divine as I caressed them with fingertips and tongue. That glorious beauty was the last image I remembered, and the first I saw when I awoke, but it was not a beautiful, sensuous woman, but one full of twisted anger and shocking pain.
Events began high above the Pacific Ocean during the eight hour flight from Honolulu to San Francisco. In the cramped seats, I sat beside Karen Ouspenskya occupying the time with conversation, more like a monologue. Karen spoke with the zeal of the newly converted.
Her words were less seductive than her body and face, features built for love. As she rambled on about the need for missionaries of the flesh to convert the staid and hypocritical people of America to loosen up and accept their animal lusts and their human need for love and interconnectedness, my seeming interest and pointed questions encouraged her to demonstrate these principle. With a blanket over our laps, her large strong hands slipped between my thighs and began rubbing. I began growing. I reciprocated, pushing my fingers against the seam of her shorts where I felt the shape of her pussy lips. That space I worked warmed and dampened. When I concentrated at the top ridge, her voice softened and her eyes intensified. Her body's subtle movements matched my strokes.
In the anything but private environs in which we masturbated each other, her play for my zipper tempted me but I resisted. After holding her back from unleashing my mighty pole which would have created an unmistakable tent stake for our small blanket, she shrugged and we continued the clothes interrupted caresses. With passengers and stewardesses occasionally passing by maybe interruptions kept the end result slow in coming. It certainly passed the time enjoyably. The closer to cumming I got, the more tempting letting loose my cock and feeling her naked cunt became. She eventually unzipped her shorts and guided my hand underneath to touch the hot smoothness of her oily innards. Somehow she kept her voice quiet as she rocked and reddened and tightened her face and coated my fingers in juice. The thrill of it and the milking tension of her finger and thumb squeezing and stroking my glans while seized by orgasm brought my own.
After a moment of recovery, I pulled out a t-shirt from the bag stashed under the seat in front of me to tamp away my excess spend. Teasing me by letting me peak at her blonde bush and the engorged pink lips beneath, she lowered the blanket before pulling her shorts back up.
We both regretted not being able to continue our pleasures that night, but I pretended my mother would object to my having female company at her house. Karen gave me the name and address of a cheap motel near the civic center. I promised the following night would be our night. She licked her lips, patted my crotch and told me she couldn't wait.
To tell you the truth, neither could I. Like I said, this woman was built for sex, and I nearly caved into the temptation to feel the soft heavy flesh of her tits and ass and the heat of her pussy surrounding my cock, not to mention staring at that sexy face as it contorted with pleasure. But I needed to be on my own to do some deep thinking on the case and to get up early and begin my research at Berkeley. I also needed to not have her around while making phone calls.
By the following evening I had learned many disturbing things. Berkeley proved fruitful in discovering the theses of the entire core group all sharing the concerns of the commune. The research related to opening up the mind to suggestion or the processes of sensory deprivation or the politics of free love or the mechanical needs of the machinery to have these ideas and events happen to the subjects or victims of Charlie's commune.
Probably the most disturbing thesis was by Margarita's new lover, Ben. I mean the guy seemed gentle, even nerdy, but I discovered a wolf in sheep's clothing. His chemistry thesis dealt with the effects of psychotropic and sedative chemicals and how they affected similar areas of the brain. The guy wanted to create tripping vegetables fed visions of Charlie's choosing. Natalie's (one of the blondes in Charlie's harem) historical proof of the benefits of a large society held together by an anarchistic vision of free love seemed naïve compared to Ben's brilliant thesis.
I wanted to call Margarita. For the second time I felt an urgency to warn her, but this time I didn't hold back. Unfortunately I couldn't get hold of her. No one by her name or Ben's rented a room. I regretted not being the last to get out to make sure my ex-lover stayed with Ben and Karen at the motel when we shared a cab from the airport.
I called the motel again, asking for Karen.
"Hi, Joe," she said immediately.
"How did you know it was me?" I asked, trying to keep from choking, my throat constricted by my growing fear for Margarita. Karen had not used an assumed name.
"Who else would call me here?" she said.
"I tried to get a hold of Margarita..."
"Oh, Ben gets a bit strange sometimes I guess. He used an assumed name. But I wouldn't bother her now. It sounds like a honeymoon next door. It's either fucking or sleeping with those two. It's driving me crazy. When are you going to come over and save me? Otherwise I might crash through the adjoining door and fuck them both."
I swallowed a tang of jealousy, silly me. "A couple hours. I still have some errands, and I'll be over to save you."
"Can't wait. I'm in room 26. Give me three long loud knocks and two short quiet ones to let me know it's you." She hung up.
I called Perry at the beach house in Kailua. He told me Karen had always been a flag waver for freedom and America's lack of appreciation for it, but had become much more fervent, proselytizing Charlie's vision. He was getting sick of it, and planned on breaking up with her despite the amazing sex. Obviously unseen by him, I nodded. He said she acted like a relentless preacher instead of a brilliant conversationalist which used to excite him as much as her face and body.
"Did she have sessions in the chamber?" I asked.
"Yes. Three that I know of. And each one created more of the monster. You should have seen Charlie and his crew. They were ecstatic."
"I bet." So they had had a successful brainwashing. "Did you..."
"No way. That thing freaks me out. It reminds me of one of the Frankenstein labs, you know."
"How true," I thought to myself. "And when did Charlie and company leave?" I asked.
"About a week later. They left without warning the same night poor Rhonda..." He couldn't say anymore.
"Do you know if Rhonda used the sensory deprivation chamber?"
"No. It was a night thing, and I usually go to sleep early. But I could swear there was something that night. Something awoke me. I thought it could be some, uh, enthusiastic sex, but it disturbed me somehow. Like it was a dangerous noise or a violent noise or a frightened noise, I don't know. Something bad. I went right back to sleep. Maybe I thought it was a dream, but I guess I remember it different than I remember dreams, you know? Does that make any sense?"
"I think so," I said. I thanked him. He asked me about Karen. I said she seemed fine. We hung up.
I called Nakamoto at his house, waking him. "Anything on the semen?" I asked.
"Yeah, at least the type matched," he said. "But I think its time to get everyone involved. I think its time you moved away from this."
"I don't think so. Everything's coming together."
"Where are you?"
"San Francisco."
"Shit. I want you to come home, Joe."
"But Margarita..." I nearly whined.
"I know. But ... Hell, I'm not supposed to tell you this. Everyone already knows. Sam wanted my head again for letting you get involved. The Feds..."
"Sorry about that," I said, though not very convincingly.
"Whatever. Some day I'll learn to defend myself from you and Sandy. But the Feds have been spying on Charlie's commune. They figured you for a new disciple until you came up a PI. That's when the shit hit the fan. So for all of our health and job security, come home and forget this."
"Let me talk to Sandy." A moment later I heard my lover, mentor, partner and friend talking. Her voice always comforts me.
"What have you got?" she asked. I heard the moan of Nakamoto in the background. "Get something to write on Donald. Hold on a second. Okay, what have you got?"
She repeated everything I said so Nakamoto could write it down. When I told her about my plans with Karen, she said, "I know you'll ignore me on this. I know the biggest part of your brain, the one that drives you forward, is in the head of that lovely cock of yours, and this woman is probably the hottest thing since French bread..."
" ... Borscht..." I said.
"Borscht is cold, darling. But the woman is involved with a cult of crazed new age hippy psychopaths, so, if you want that lovely head to stay intact come home."
"But Margarita is in danger," I said.
"And the Feds are watching," she said.
"And how soon will they have a case? And how much of a shit do they give about Margarita? They probably think she's one of them. Or worse, they want to catch our little tribe of lunatics red handed killing her!"
"Look, Joe. We'll try to get all your information to the Feds on the case. That way they may know who's who and that things might be coming to a head. But listen to me. I can't force you to come home. But I worry, okay. So if you care about me, you'll either take my advice and come home now, or take my other advice and be very very careful."
Of course I ended up taking neither.
Ready to bolt out the door to head to the sexiest lioness I ever met, I remembered the article on the commune. I decided to have a chat with the woman who wrote it. At least I'd know the commune's location.
This proved to be a most troubling call. I contacted the journal that published the article. They said she was freelance. I told them I had talked to her regarding her next story but lost her number. Pleased she had started something new, he gave me a number to her office. Her office turned out to be her home which she shared with at least one roommate.
"I haven't heard from her in a week," the female roommate said, sounding concerned.
"Has she gone missing?" I asked.
"She's been working on an article or maybe a book. It's been an obsession for several months. The last time I saw her she said not to worry. She planned on travel and might not be in contact for awhile. I didn't figure it to be for over a week. The rent's due in a couple days. Should I be concerned?"
Not sure how to respond to that, I told the truth. "I don't know."
"You find her, you tell her to call home, okay?"
When I finally arrived at the shitty little motel, I knocked the code on the door of room 26.
"Just a second," I heard through the door. Even through the door the voice sounded smoother and higher than the Russian's. When the door opened, there stood Deidre. I never met her officially, just spotting her briefly at my mother's store. When my eyes met hers, I could see the brilliant mad mind behind them. I heard the sounds of a squeaking bed and moans coming from next door. Later I figured it was a tape. At the time I swallowed her explanation.
"Karen couldn't wait. I, however, was intrigued." As soon as the door closed and she secured it, Deidre became the consummate call girl. Her beauty seemed to charismatically shimmer. She stood in front of me and began removing my clothes. She wore a silk robe and underneath a black silk camisole. The robe had a psychedelic, almost hypnotic design of coiled dragons in dark purple and red and green with a black background.
First my windbreaker fell from my shoulders. Then she unbuttoned my cardigan and slipped it off. She caressed my hard-on throughout the stripping. "I heard about you. You sounded like my type: long and lean and strong and smart and young and handsome, and with a big cock." She skipped my shirt and went directly for my jeans, unzipping and pulling them down. She smiled at the bulge in my briefs and licked her chops. "And you know how to please a woman."
She kneeled, pulling my underwear off and licked my ultra rigid pole. If I knew how to please a woman, she sure knew how to please a man. She sucked me deep into her mouth, licked around the knob, and then began pumping my cock at the head with her lips and at the base with her hand. The intensity of the blow job made me clumsy. She smiled up at me and guided me to the edge of the bed where I sat. She kneeled between my knees, returning to her task. Her other hand caressed my balls. They swelled with sperm.
I barely gave her warning, "I'm cumming," before my cock began to throb and spit. I hadn't cum so fast since my very first blow job with the high school slut, Marianne (who I actually liked and thought better of than that).
Deidre let me cum inside her mouth, but didn't swallow, letting the cum ooze out and drip off her chin. She got up. "Be a second. Get out of your clothes and get in bed," Deidre ordered. I heard the sound of the faucet, then the sound of brushing teeth.
I obeyed and lay back naked in the king sized bed. When she reentered, she threatened to unwrap herself. "Let me do that," I said.
She shrugged and stood beside the bed. I stood in front of her, kissing the top of her head, then began kissing my way down. I spent moments at her forehead, each eye, her perfect nose, her high cheeks, before lingering at her lips. I discovered a little hardness, a lack of acceptance for the most intimate of lovemaking like a whore who may not refuse a kiss but certainly wasn't agreeable to it. I didn't know how to loosen her up or if it was possible. When her teeth opened to allow my tongue to enter, I felt her soften a bit. We played tongue tag for awhile. I moved on with my oral ministrations. When I played with her ears, kissing, barely tonguing, then blowing, I felt a subtle shiver. I tried the neck and found it receptive as well. I returned to the ears a moment, a quick lick and breathe for each before attacking her mouth.
She suddenly went wild. I found the button to push to turn her on. She shoved me on the bed and straddled me. Her camisole lifted out of the way on its own and her naked pussy pushed against my hardening cock. Our kiss continued, more energetic and thrilling. Her pubic bone rubbed against mine while the top of my penis slid along her moistening pussy lips. I stopped the kiss and the motion and pulled her back.
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